


Sinful Motivation

by thestarcrossed



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 15:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16266722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarcrossed/pseuds/thestarcrossed
Summary: Grimmjow believes himself to be a sinner...





	Sinful Motivation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wordslinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslinger/gifts).



> GrimmHime is a crackship that I flirted with for a few months. I wrote this with my best friend in mind. This is her's! My little gift to her! I continued until the end. Most of my erotica are cliffhangers. I know, I know... How dare I! But I promise I do everything for a reason.

It's a simple assault of fingertips against a curved, nude hip. A pinch of a calloused thumb. Index, middle and ring fingers digging themselves in. He has a bad habit of lifting his pinky; not like she was complaining. It was easier to explain that she bumped into something instead of saying she had spent the night beneath someone.

The sheets underneath her were sticky, clinging to her like a second skin but she prevailed. Burnt orange spread out over the stark whiteness of the cover, appearing more sunset than the familiar sienna. It pools at the base of her back, fanning out around her as she pants, submerged in the weight of pleasure.

A heavenly blush was creeping upon on the apples of her cheeks, kiss-swollen lips parted and forming little 'o's and 'ahh's as they came in heavy session. But that doesn't stop the man between her thighs. Matter of fact, it encourages him to go further, faster, harder. Natural male instinct kicks in; to take more. More than she could possibly give but he is hungry, needy and he wants it.

His question, regardless of the current situation, is a mantra in her head. 'Do you want to go home with me?' A broken record. Yet, she couldn't help but enjoy the attack of his tongue, the brush of his soft lips. His shoulders, broad and scarred from years of hollow battles, rock side to side in their endeavor. A hum rumbles from his chest somewhere, a nod of approval as he eases himself in deeper. Electric blue looks wildly vibrant against the golden color of her inner thigh. It even tickles causing the muscle to quiver with excitement. Closer, o-oh.. closer, yes. Her voice is the only one to be heard despite it not being vocal.

The mattress shifts with his weight as he scoots up onto his knees, bringing them up beneath him, allowing him room to hover. Arms trail up, hands catching the curvy woman by the hips, forcing her down on his forearms and into the bends of elbows. The greed is consuming. Was it worth the death that may follow? Yes, yes, it was. Grimmjow didn't care if Ulquiorra knew or not. He wasn't about to give up personal information to the likes of her without tasting a bit of honey.

12:04 AM flashes angrily, provided with the dim glow of the bathroom light, enough to shine a way to her sweet center. His tongue is a force of nature. Rushed but deliberate come-hereth motions of his rough fingertips playing over an unseen button. Her body rolls naturally, upwards then falling back. An elbow keeps her propped, her body off the bed while she tries not to succumb to the tightening of the pleasure coil.

A little death teetered on the ledge. A tingling, a twisting.

"Hmmm.." Vibrates over her clit and up through the center of her. Pants came in waves, yelps and cries alike couldn't be told apart but he knew. She was falling apart in his grasp, in his mouth. A rush of sweet liquid, muscles convulsing around his fingers as they strived to go further.

At the snap of release, her back bowed. The female orgasm is amazing to watch; especially from his standpoint. Orihime does it the best. He has never forgotten it. How could someone? Was this what goth-fuck liked? How the blush spread out from her nose, conquering her cheeks in a bright rose red or was it how her mewls became one long syllable? Her body doesn't twist around like some women, no, it bows like an archer's hunting bow. A single motion, her shoulders dipped down, her thighs quivering and quaking around his head.

Grimmjow is addicted.

Her hands are in her own hair, never in his. He assumes it was because he wasn't but something temporary. Does he honestly think he deserved what came next? Princess is flourishing in his skills. Breasts, as heavy as they were, were heaving. Rosy colored nipples stiff as they bounced in her struggle. Even the tautness of her stomach is happily jumping, twitching.

"No, no... Princesa. No he terminado." His words flutter over her center, her sweetness coating his lips. Of course, he wasn't done. He was just getting started. Would anybody miss her? Doubt it. Would anybody come looking? No. Grimmjow is smarter, wiser. Taking her home had been apart of the plan for awhile.

So what if he shared it with another woman. That woman isn't here now and if she was, she wasn't letting her presence be known. He has to be thankful. Kneeling at another woman’s alter, praying to her like she was some sinful God while expecting a miracle. Orihime is those things. Out of reach, untouchable, and forbidden.

Ulquiorra would have his head on a pike. He doesn’t want to be found but Grimmjow wasn’t a martyr. He is a king among thieves. A taker of hearts, pussies and any other hole he could shove his dick in but this? Ah, this... Was like hitting the opium dragon and praying that he didn’t fall face first into the shit about to be slung his way. Why did it have to be like this? Why did Ulquiorra turn her away? He couldn’t wrap his head around it. She is perfect.

So perfect that as he places one last kiss to her peach blossom petals that by leaning over her, he plants a hand directly besides her head and pumps himself within his own grasp. Every risk was worth taking if the risk was of some importance. 

Basking in the glow of her orgasm, he has to cherish every inch of that sun-kissed skin. Natural sun paints her flesh, outlines of some little string bikini stood out like cream against the gold color of the tan. He takes note that it is only about the thickness of her hips for those milky breasts were as colored as the rest of her. Shameless, tanning half-nude.

Nudging his knees up against the backs of her thighs, he nudges himself further, closing the space between their bodies. Blue eyes are as vivid as his hair. Two of his fingers catches a strand of cinnamon, fumbling it through calloused tips as he pivots his hips forward, careful to keep his weight off of her.

A broad-tip flicker up the center of her, her body responds with a delicious roll. He even pays special attention to the ultra-sensitive bundle of nerve-endings where she ended. One smooth tip, hot and velveteen, caressing over and over. He wants her to squirm. Not just any kind.. but the kind where her head would flail.

Flail, indeed. Orihime’s head goes from one side to the other, heavily panting. She is too sensitive from the first pleasure wave and now, this would be like the cherry on top. Shimmying her hips downward, she makes sure to keep directly beneath him, thighs laid wide and inviting. Bruise me, she wants to say, take me and don’t stop. Yet words fail her. Never quite making it past her lips.


End file.
